Waikiki is called by many “The Playground Capital of the World.” In all of our travels, the closest thing to it that we have seen is the island of Capri in the Tyrrhenian Sea off the coast of Naples, Italy.

Waikiki never sleeps. There is something going on 24/7. During the day, colorful tour busses transport excited tourists eager to come under the spell of this enchanting place.

Waikiki at night takes on an aura of charm that lures one to meander its torch-lighted streets, listen to the native music, fall in love with the hula dancers, find an appealing sidewalk café, order some tantalizing local cuisine, kick back and savor the moment.

Wyndham Waikiki, our grand condominium, plush and cozy is located in lavish Waikiki two blocks from the world famous Waikiki Beach. A short distance away is Trump Towers and the lush escape of the celebrities.

We awoke early. We had supplied our pantry plentifully with tasty local goodies. However, B. J. had impressed upon me that she wanted to do some serious shopping in the fascinating shops. Therefore, the day would belong to B. J.

We rolled out of our oh-so-comfy bed, threw on our appropriate Waikiki attire and headed downstairs to find a good sidewalk breakfast café. Outside, even though it was early, captivating music filled the air. A balmy breeze from the Pacific caressed us. Lovers, out early, walked arm in arm and otherwise entwined.

We did not have to go far before we found a pleasant sidewalk café with a mouth-watering menu. We seated ourselves among festive surroundings. Shortly, a native-clad brown-skinned beauty wearing a colorful lei approached and with a sparkle in her voice and a twinkle in her eyes, she greeted us with a cheery “Good morning!”

After our sumptuous breakfast, we began our street ramble. We were enthralled at the beguiling décor in the store windows. There was definitely the Waikiki flair. It was interesting enough just to window shop, but B. J. would not be satisfied with just looking at window arrangements.

The hula girls and tambourine beaters were along the sidewalks and in the streets. The music lulled us into a kind of daze. B. J. was not just browsing; she was spending some bucks$$$. I hurried her a little.
We moved along and then we saw it—a Cheesecake Factory nestled within a small forest of stately palms. We could hear lively music inside. We had always wanted to eat at a Cheesecake Factory. Today we would dine at the Waikiki Cheesecake Factory.

After plundering a few more of the adorable shops, we crossed to the other side of the street and the Cheesecake Factory. Inside, we were mesmerized. The Hawaiian embellishment, the colorfully clad servers, the spirited band and the tantalizing food grabbed us by our appetites. We were presented with leis and treated royally. The food was simply out of this world.

Up the street from the Cheesecake Factory was where I got into trouble—it was the International Bazaar. (I had been trapped with B. J. in one of those things in the Bahamas$$$.)

There is literally “stuff” there from all over the world. You can spend all day there and not see it all. We spent a goodly portion of the afternoon in the Waikiki International Bazaar.

The day was wearing on and so were my feet. I carefully suggested to B. J. that we cross to the other side of the street and begin making our way back to our condominium. She reluctantly agreed and we ambled slowly along checking out a few more shops as we wandered the sidewalk.

Finally, back in the condominium, I pulled off my shoes, kicked back in the squashy recliner and “cooled it” for a spell.

I was just entering the twilight zone when I heard B. J. say not too softly, “The moon is full tonight. Do you want to go for a stroll on the beach?”

“Well, I...”

“Come on. We may never get a chance to do this again.”

Waikiki at night under a full moon is perhaps the most talked about and sought after experience in the world. In fact, people travel from all over the world to be there and do it; it is fantastic.

B. J. and I would stroll along Waikiki under a full moon and that would be almost a fitting end to B. J.’s perfect day in Waikiki.

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